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"Well, that's a bird of a feather." Her feet tingle a little with their own plumage, and the Crow wonders if she's become the Raven, this side of the Mists... "Tell us more, Tural. Is it holy? Is it evil? A shrine to the darkness beneath the wings of a worshipped avian? It's a lovely thing, to say the least, and I'm on the verge of breaking my vows to leave-it-alone..."
Mimi flinches as the webs are set on fire. "I'm more of a leave-it-alone house guest. I know, I know, this isn't a true social call. Still, the Count is quick to anger..." The old woman follows closely, impressed at the size of the establishment. "Feels like we should be dropping bread crumbs."
Mimi picks up a turkey leg from the dining table, and casually picks at it while they begin to explore. She's curious to see if its meat is also an illusion, when they leave the room proper. "So, Ireena. The Count is keen on her. Do you think she knows this already? Do you think the Burgomaster does? The Count has now admitted twice that he's not able to control slimes or undead. Well, at least the ones attempting to end our lives..." The old woman continues to pick things over.
"He wants to cling to his own illusions. Probably good we didn't call him 'vampire' to his face." Mimi doesn't enter the secret room, preferring to keep watch behind the boys as they explore. "Shall we explore more of the first floor? I wonder how much time we have before the Count checks in on us."
Mimi raises an eyebrow, then raises a corner of her mouth. "Your words ring true, Count. We are here to find solutions. Ours, Barovia's," the Crow raises a glass, "...perhaps even your own."
Mimi takes a beat, debating. He's spoken with us. Answered us, even invited us to his table... We're in danger here, to be sure, but we can make it worse. The old woman takes a seat on the opposite side of the table from the Count. She surveys the feast, and fills a plate. She sets it in front of herself, and watches Flemming first. "Nubs like a nursing cat, yes. Thank you, Count Strahd." She adjusts the plate in front of her, though she holds off eating anything. She has more questions, and doesn't want to speak with her mouth full. "There was a slime, Count. Is that part of the Castle's defense? We'd like to apologize for its destruction. I mean, we'd like to, but it feels hollow, when we had to defend ourselves from its obvious threat."
"Years of practice, indeed. Count, your dexterity is impressive. My eyes don't often deceive me, but are you trying to? I can see a second image of you, and your hands move so subtly, I might be convinced you're not trying to cast a spell..." Mimi's left hand finds its way below the table to the dagger on her hip...
"You have deft fingers, Count. Years of practice?"
Mimi loses all pretense when she crosses the threshold. Her back stands fully erect, the hackles raised. Her gait is brisk, and she looks over her shoulder routinely while they move deeper into the Castle. Every so often, she actually walks backwards while the boys head south, her paranoia ramping up as they lose their grip on the outside world. "Beware of any beautiful things that approach you, Borracho. It won't be your coin purse they'll be tickling you for..."
"I've got some rope, Flem. That should put your mind completely at ease." Mimi isn't looking at the burly man, not while there are great spires to tower above them ominously. The old woman's hand passes over the pommel of the powerful ghost jabber in her belt, taking some ease that they won't be completely impotent against spectres in the castle. "That was rude. Inviting us to join him, sending his carriage to bear us hence, then drop a slime on us. Good thinking with the campfire, Flem." Entering the Front Doors, Mimi shakes her head. "What kind of dialogue do you think the Count is capable of? I'm at a loss. 'What's your favorite villager flavor?' 'Have you heard the Good Word of Sarenrae?' 'Can you hear our heartbeats?' 'How long does your finger need to be a glass of whiskey before you call it properly chilled?'
Mimi rubs her new nubs, impressed that the work is done so efficiently, and a bit awestruck that her journey has seen her Noogie transformed not once, but twice, in order to combat horrors she's only heard of around campfires. Until now. As the carriage threatens to lull her to sleep, she closes her eyes, but rattles her vocal chords to inquire with her crew. "The killing to come. We have fought off wolves, sure. Zombies even, some things even worse. Are we undertaking a purge of the Castle? Anything that moves? What if Strahd has himself villagers in there, sworn to protect their lord? Vampires can addle brains, right? We're not just going to beat down everything that seeks to oppose us? I've never killed a man, and I don't care to start." The Crow goes mum for a spell. ... Arriving at the Castle, Mimi pays attention to Borracho paying attention to the great construction. "I could see you living in something that grand, Borracho. Only something less gloomy, perhaps some gypsy music echoing from the higher windows. This feels more like a tomb..." The old woman gets out, and proceeds to walk through the Front Doors, eager to get out of the courtyard, and away from the dead eyes of the gargoyles. "Hurry up, boys. Don't want to keep the Count waiting."
Five Finger Diss Count: Level 5 Slayer +1 BAB +0 Fort
2nd Studied Target Feat- Iron Will Adventuring Skills
Background Skills
Mimi stretch-squats several times, restless, nervous, and a bit preparatory. She listens to the questions, the speculations, the presumptions, the perditions, and she shakes her head of the darker thoughts, trying to see the hope in this pilgrimage. "So, as soon as we step into the Castle, we can't leave, unless the Count grants us leave. Does that include the bridge? the courtyard? Where is the point of no return?" Mimi cracks her knuckles, working out the stiffness. "Jakob, there are only four of us. We can't afford to lose any one of us when we enter the Castle. So I'll ask this- exactly how many monsters walk the halls in that deathtrap? I count one Count. How many witches? Are they all equal, or is there a leader? Is that it, or do more creatures stalk the halls? You see, the more we know, the more we can plan. Some beasts need certain steel, some need a weapon like you gifted us. We are going to arm ourselves the best we can, before we depart." Mimi turns to Tural. "Holy water? Holy fire? Secular fire just as good? Great stone castles probably don't burn down easily, but great halls are great places to throw great fires..." Mimi frets for her boys. One of them will surely be dead before this is over, she only wonders which.
"He doesn’t control me! I can leave the castle whenever I want and visit the village." Mimi smiles, though the smile tightens at her jaw, as she raises the ire of the specter. "I hoped for that. I'm just sorry that you had to die in order to leave the Castle on your own accord." The old woman looks to their Sarenrite, curious, but not curious enough to remain silent while she wonders what wood is burning behind Tural's divine eyes. "Phantom pup, do you have a name? Does your family? Do the brothers?" Mimi hesitates. "Do the witches?" She doesn't like the idea that they become more real to her when she learns the names, but she doesn't have time for ignorance.
"A trap. You're warning us about the Castle. You're very kind, and you're very strong to come all this way." Mimi sits down, and clasps her hands instead of her shawl, placing them firmly in her lap. "If you died in the Castle, are you also forbidden to leave? Does he control everything that can come and go? If so, that means the lord willed your visit here tonight." The Crow grows quiet, and waits to hear what the ghost might offer as a reply.
Mimi's eyes widen fully as the ghost enters the room. Its presence is otherworldly, of course, but it's also something other than an allip and its incoherent chattering. This one speaks, and so politely. "Why? Why would you warn us, phantom pup?" Mimi holds still, her hand clasping at her shawl, slowly raising it under her chin.
Mimi literally sleeps with one eye open, though it rolls up into her skull and stays out of harm's way. It rolls back down at the sound of the scratching, and is joined by the other eye, which opens fully. She sees the boys rising from the corner of her eye, while approaching the window, and seeking the source of the scratching.
Mimi looks pleased, as she tucks the keys away. "I'm all for getting rid of the coffin. Vampires within the town perimeter? Despicable. I'll admit, the keys feel more like a trophy, so remind me to hand them over when the time comes." The Crow is not above helping moving the various contents of the Vault to buildings considered more sacred and prohibitive to vampires entering. During the work, she inquires with the others. "Supposing we travel to the Count's Castle, what's to say the gates never open when we call on him to answer? Do we approach him as performers, seeking patronage? Something less... adversarial?"
It takes all of four minutes for the Crow to nest by the fire of the tavern, and fall into a deep, deep sleep. A sleep so deep, her ears no longer hear the reassurances of Tural, the bravado of Borracho, and the beneficence of Flemming. The praise of the people, neither. The ears only hear the crackle of the burning wood, and it eases the rabbit in her mind seeking to run away from the fangs of the black night. A nudge to retire only wakens Mimi for the quiet that will be the rest of the night. She will keep watch, she will listen, and she will report anything that tests the sanctuary that is the tavern. ... At daybreak, Mimi nurses a small distillate of kahve, and waits for the boys to wake, so she can ready herself for the next confrontation. She checks and double checks the presence of the Vault keys. She holds one of them up, and makes it disappear from most sightlines, before allowing it to be visible to all. It works out some of the arthritis, and it works out some of the anxiety. "Why not give the keys to the leaders of this community and let them handle it." Mimi stops her manipulations, the key held between two knuckles. "How did the keys end up in the possession of the vampire? Stolen? Given away, willingly? We should determine that first, before we hand them off. If the vampire craves the safety of that Vault again, they'll seek the keys again..."
Mimi finds the two Vault Keys, inspecting them for their obvious quality. When she turns away, the two Keys are no longer sitting on the shelf. "Sunlight on the coffin is fine by me. Sweeping it free of the dirt, too. Might even be a nice enough coffin to someone in the village in need of a proper burial." Mimi speaks without really watching the boys, as she's more interested in the more secular possessions still remaining inside the Vault. They'll need seeing to.
Mimi watches stoically as Flemming and Tural dispatch the obviously unwelcome undead leftover. "A wight? One is bad enough. You know what they say about two wights..." The old woman stands at the doorway of the Vault, giving it a methodical once-over, before entering the Vault, and slowly walking the entirety of the floor.
"So, who's coffin is it? The priest we defeated? Or was he the outside protector, while something more formidable naps inside?" Mimi considers. "A massive Vault door, and an undead guardian. Unlikely there would be further traps, don't you think?" She regards the rest of the chamber, leaving the coffin to the boys.
Mimi dons her armor methodically, looking back at the Vault Doors, and readying to apply her more than average skills to see the Doors fully overcome. She is unwilling to leave the basement of the Church until her work is seen the whole way through. She stops several times during the safecracking to rub her hands, stretch her arms, dry her fingertips...
"There you are... you little biter you..." Mimi traces a finger from the second lock down the door to the floor below. In her peripheral gaze, she can swear she sees the raven feathers twitching lightly, irritated the same way she feels as she recognizes the danger she faces. She slowly starts to unstrap her mithral breast plate from under her overshirt. "Boys, I'm going to ask you to leave the basement. You're going to ask why, so I'm going to inform you that the floor is about to lash out with lightning, as I try to pop the lock. It's a formidable little thing, so I'm going to get shocked at least once, and I don't want you enduring my failures. Failure, let's be optimistic. Do we understand each other?" The old woman produces her tools, and waits just long enough for the others to depart. She calls out to Tural. "Now, I might yelp. If I do, will you attend to my burns? I don't want to lose to this lock, but I'm not stupid either. I don't know how bright the floor is going to get." She remains quiet while they leave, though not for long.
The Crow crows in pain, then squats in front of the Vault Door, awaiting her helpful healer to check her status. She's been injured before in such ventures, so if she's barely injured, she waves Tural back upstairs and takes a second swing.
The old woman pats her the fumes from her forearms, undeterred. She waits again, expecting that Tural will know well enough if she requires a patch-up, but she felt something she missed the first time she binded a pin, and knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the lock is not invincible.
"Third time, bird chime." Mimi sounds the all-clear.
Mimi sees the streaks of blue as a sign. Streaks of blue, streaks of luck, let's see if Lock number 2 reveals its danger, after umpteen attempts... it's not going anywhere, and neither am I.
Mimi sidles up to Flemming, securing the boots that bear the black feathers. "We'll see how these do, walking the halls of a castle..." She turns to Flemming. "Be a dear, would you?" She hands the form-fits to the Fist, hoping he'll help her slip into them.
"You, my dear, have a gift already from me, be sure you wear it when you meet the Count." Mimi raises her left hand, showing the others a lovely ring on her finger. "You shouldn't have, but you did, and I won't insult your kindness by trying to return it just yet." She really means to ask further. "So... it's in the cards. We meet the Count." Mimi rubs the arm of her chair with her free hand, slowly putting together Madam Eva's caution to use a powerful magical ring around what might be a powerful magical man. "He reads minds. The genie's wish of all diplomat fops." The Crow helps herself to more wine, and raises her glass. "To our benefactor, generous to a fault. To our guardian angel, mysterious enough to preserve our sanity."
As Mimi enters through the doorway, she takes a moment to lean towards Madam Eva in her new guise, and kiss the older woman's right and left cheek with her own cheeks, in that order. "We were, uh, busy tending to the daunting amount of undead in this region. Forgive us for the delay." The Crow takes a seat, and avails herself of the wagon's hospitality, for the essentials of life such as food and wine should never be declined, when the next instance of access might be denied for awhile. "Tural certainly considers the troupe's comings and goings, something you must be well-versed to discuss with us, should you consider it important enough." Mimi selects the closest goblet, lifting it and dropping it back down on the tray, to make sure that the magic only supports the tray, and not the goblet. "I am much more concerned about the evil lurking in this land, and how likely we are to die by allip, or vampire, or skeleton, or zombie, or hell-worg, or withered corpse, or..." Mimi raises the goblet in a gesture that suggests she could continue with her list, but risks embellishment. "Madam Eva, do tell us how dire is our circumstance. We mustn't be caught with our drawers down. We are learning quickly that our armaments are one step behind the next fell creature that lopes from the mists to besiege us." Mimi downs her wine, looking for the next fill.
"Fill your bellies, the stew is hot and the bread is fresh. Ma’am, may I escort you to a seat?” Mimi smiles, and curls a more bony than muscled hand around the forearm of the mastiff of a man. She pats it appreciatively, and nods. "We are having the time of our life in these lands. It's good to find like souls, and break bread, like Borracho said." She takes in the travelers' camp the best she can. She knew they'd find themselves in the company of Madam Eva, as promised, but she can't help but chide herself that Horatio himself might be part of the fuzzy equation. "Good to see you again, master gnome. I didn't think time could make you look wiser, but here we are." She smiles her approval of a familiar face, and doesn't hide her looking elsewhere for the accompanying one.
Mimi holds up Noogie, ready to speak about how nice it is to toss it and retrieve it by its tether, when Borracho bashes. She lowers Noogie, secretly glad that her Noogie wasn't needed. Who knows what happens to all that swirl-evil. "You good, Borracho? Nothing daunts you. Just don't get any on you." The old woman follows their hound down another rabbit trail. She doesn't like the mental image when breeding rabbits and breeding allips pass behind her eyes...
Round 1, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Noogie(+1 Silvered Aklys) Condition(s) = Weapons Against Evil? Not sure how quickly we got into the Crevice... "Tural, what is that horrid thing?" She's primarily looking at the corpse rider, but she does glance at the allip from time to time. Mimi steps forward just close enough to throw Noogie at the rider.
"So much undeath in this land. Too much." Her voice barely carries, and she waits for the others to ready themselves for breaching the crevice. She tries her best to determine how vulnerable the first forward is going to be.
Mimi doesn't like this hunt. Nothing like the cretins who jumped bail, and required 'shepherding' back to justice. No, this is unholy stuff, and she's uncomfortable for how much is being asked of Tural to overcome the decay of the undead. If Mimi can join Flemming in the approach, she'll do her utmost to introduce the vukodlak to Noogie. She does look the vuk up and down, laying her Whammy down.
If she and her Noogie get within 20', she lets her silver-studded weapon, newly magicked by Tural, fly.
Mimi hones in on the trip wire. "Watch your step, boys. There's something here seeking to snag your pant legs..." She approaches, then hunches, looking for the best way to undo what might prove dangerous to lesser townsfolk.
Mimi moves to join Domini at the window, curious and fearful at the same time. When she sets eyes on the stranger rider, she studies it for what little good it will do from inside the Manor. "I've heard stories. An old, old, very old witch employed Riders, one of them Black. Suppose they all look black at night. In service to the Crone, the once humans became something more... eternal. If the stories were true, the last one was a female sellsword. Probably eternally grumpy, if she had to obey the witch..." Mimi turns back to her boys. "You sure you don't want to follow it? Might be a messenger, being all alone. The horse might be a problem, but the Manor continues to get way too much attention."
Mimi decides that the less time they spend in the dark, the better, so picks up her pace, hoping to be understood in her speedy intent. "There are paw prints about, rather large ones. I expect we'll need to fend off another ambush or three before we get back to the Manor."
Mimi strains to see into the distance, as Flemming's much younger eyes reach further than hers in all likelihood. "Do you suppose we can follow the little bits of flesh falling off the zombies in their march on the Manor? I'm sure their footprints will be enough to continue. When we're ready, of course. Likely the necromancer just woke up a local cemetery..." She doesn't object to returning back to the living. If the traveler's camp isn't too far, Mimi offers to visit it, as long as she can bring a small basket of edibles that she'll either use to appease the gypsies, or eat before dinner before returning. "Do we know anything about the clan of the camp? Who's their leader? Do they have one? Do they visit here often? Do they like sweets?"
Mimi counts her fingers, nodding. "What would an Abadarian Vault be if someone like me could find her way past their protections so easily...?" She pats the Vault a little too hard, before renewing her smile. "Wouldn't mind some fresh air. If we can learn anything from last night's attack, we oughta."
Mimi spits, more as a gesture than an emission, and moves across the room to retrieve Domini's dagger. Once in hand, she moves across the room to Domini himself, and hands it back, pommel first. "Almost as good as my Noogie." The old woman reaches up and pinches the man's cheek. ... Where there's coffee, there's coffee grinds. Mimi sniffs about until she finds the grinds, and applies several pinches to her person. About the neck, only a little. About the pits, a bit more. Satisfied her true scent is cloaked by the bean grit, she settles in for more than one cup of fresh brew. She hums after each sip, testing her newly warmed vocal chords. ... When Mimi spies her Noogie, she visibly relaxes, shuffling over to Petra, and giving him a full body hug, though most of her meets him at the belly and down. "You are a true master, Petra. You and yours, let me not forget the full crew of hard workers. What do we owe you?" Only when she's done asking does she let Petra go, so she can go to her old weapon friend. "Look at you, all dolled up. Now we match, you with your new silver, me with my mithral..." ... The old woman makes her way back to the Vault, where she tries her best to break through the second, more magical-lookin' lock.
Round 7, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly For her stroll about the outside of the manor, Mimi has built up a bit of frustration for her inability to do much of anything against the supernatural. She can't immediately identify the blade in Domini's hand as magical, but she can understand its make. She doesn't hesitate in grabbing the blade, and throwing it at the rising chatter cloud.
Round 6, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly "Domini, meet me at the door."
Domini doesn't succumb to the allip's maddening chatter, and does as he's bid. When Mimi arrives at the doorway, she takes it all in. Burning zombie bodies, strange-looking thing floating about among her boys.
She barely keeps it together herself, wondering how much longer they must endure the insane noise...
Round 5, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly Mimi continues her excursion around the manor, making it to the southeast corner, giving the grounds a good looking over.
Domini checks his arrow supply, and continues the defense of the burgomaster abode, aiming at what he thinks might be an already-damaged zombie at the door.
Round 4, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly When Tural's divine force rips through the horde, Mimi crows quietly. Here I thought I'd be hacking through a couple of already-deads... She'd rather not risk a couple of zombie grabs, so puts a hand on the manor, and follows it to the other side, hoping to scout for more siegers as yet unseen. Domini keeps it up.
edit:
Round 3, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly Mimi eyes the zombies in their direct assault on the door, and huffs. She wonders if they think she's nearly a zombie herself, and unimportant for standing where she is. She frowns upon the zombie directly ahead of her , looking it up and down so she might injure it more mightily when it grows close. She then backs up a little, worried that the creatures might run her down. Unbidden this time, Domini follows Jadek's example, and puts away his blunt arrow for a piercing one, firing at whatever zombie deserves it the most.
Round 2, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = 20 HP = 36/36 Weapon Equipped = Definitely a short sword she borrowed from Petra Condition(s) = None, sadly "Well, the door should provide some bottlenecking, but there's an awful lot of them. They're slow, right? They either shamble, or they strike? Alright..." Mimi exits the manor to the west, and plants herself at the corner of the building, seeking what little cover exists around the manor. "Don't let up, Domini. Though you might want to find a sword, and start hacking once they get close enough. Use one of those blunts against that back skeleton."
Round 1, Init 17 Up Skirts:
AC = HP = Weapon Equipped = Club, possibly a short sword, just depends Condition(s) = None
Mimi frets, waiting for her role in this conflict to become apparent. She figures that she'll wield a short sword well enough, when the zombies hit the door, so she barks at Domini to do just like his brother, and fire at anything moving in the darkness surrounding the manor.
"Breathe, boy. It steadies the aim. Take heart, too. Once you've survived the evening, you'll be stronger for the fight."
Mimi ambles about the first floor of the manor, tapping the club in her hand against various pieces of furniture, and wondering what flavor of undead they're going to enjoy the company of in the twilight hour. She studies the men at the door, and pictures the opening and closing of the 'trap' door, before moving in to thunk the skull of a hapless walking corpse. It's quite unreal to her, this new reality of hers. Gone are the lazy days of travel across the countryside, eating local fare for the first time, listening to the boys preparing their performative conversations with the enraptured crowds. Gone are the nights when she collects single flowers after the curtains go down, and she can unwind in a nearby restaurant, a heady tawny port just inches away. This sudden savior thing is a bit much. Sure, running down a miscreant too wary for the portly authorities so she might collect some coin had its own risks, but they were quite mundane. Not profane like this. No, on stage these days, she could make light work of deceiving eyes in order to brighten them instead, and it was never dull to her. But now, she must deceive dead eyes, and it chills her to the bone. Outwardly fretting, inwardly fearing. Already two nights of defying death, she begins to wonder how long they will be at this, before they can return to their own kind of normal.
"I'm sorry Mimi. I think he was working on my hand wraps today as they should be the easiest to do I should think. We'll visit him in the morning and see where he is, but you'll be without your Nookie tonight I think." "Yes, when you can't have your Nookie, you'll have your hand, at least." Mimi squints at Flemming, annoyed and amused at the same time. ... As Jadek presents himself, Mimi smiles, beckoning him closer. She pats his forearm, giving it a squeeze. "Almost as firm as Flem's." The old woman looks the woodsman over, nodding. "You understand better than most what you offer, and what you risk if you join us at the manor when the sun has set. You are not asked to do this, you are your own man, Jadek. I approve." She doesn't go as far as to check the man's teeth, gift horse and all. ... "I’ve just the first of them, but we’ll work through the night if we must!” Mimi pats her Noogie, not taking it from the smith's son. "Just... do be careful with it. It's been something of a constant in my life, and you honor me with the crafting of those studs." When the Twins join them, and Flemming begins to strategize, Mimi relaxes as a central zebra might when they find themselves in the center of the herd while galloping across the plains. Strength in numbers, our odds grow better, as our ranks increase. We may see the dawn intact. "Ask Petra or his kin for blunt arrows. In case you want to thump skeletons from afar. Oh, and a bazooka if he has one. It's like a babooshka, but much more violent, much less impotent." The old woman rummages through Petra's productions, looking to borrow a slashing implement, in case she needs an alternative to her borrowed club. ... Mimi listens as attentively as the villagers when Tural lends his expertise to Flemming's planning. She's entirely unsure where she wants to be, but she's pretty sure it'll be in flank with someone else on the ground with her. "I've heard that the tinkle of a priest is considered holy water. Is that true, Tural?"
Mimi only needs a half an hour each night to feel fully recharged. The rest of the time, she leans over the others and steals their breaths to remain young.
"I'd like to return here, and work on the Vault tomorrow. One lock popped, I might get under the second lock's skin. But I need time." Mimi pats the Vault on its front, a silent promise to return. ... The promise of a nap takes priority, and Mimi doesn't tarry with the taverners. She's fast asleep before the boys even enter the room. ... She wakes quickly, her sleep always on the surface, and her desire to adjust things while others' eyes are still closed or cloudy from recent sleep is high. She checks on her poisons, careful not to handle them directly, appraising them for their obvious value and placement in a church vault. When the others are fully awake, she readies to head out to the manor. "You think any of our weapons are already done? I miss my Noogie."
Completely uninterested in triggering the magic within the second keyhole, Mimi contents herself with observation only, at this time. She understands the essence of their time, and the looming threats which await their stay at the manor...
Mimi pulls out an old handkerchief and wraps the three darts very delicately, before tucking them away, points down. "Yes, that second keyhole was... unexpected. It's got something about it that feels like I might injure myself in the attempt to break my way through. Search away, or maybe we can inquire with the townsfolk about likely keyholders." Mimi keeps looking back at the Vault, wondering.
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